3812: The central works of this solo exhibition, 11:11 and 22:22, are inspired by the lyrics of two Cantonese songs. Which songs are they? Could you share with us the stories behind your connection to these two songs?
Lai: The two songs are The Yellow Door(黃色大門) by Joey Yung and Red Roof(紅屋頂) by Denise Ho, both with lyrics written by Wyman Wong. I first heard The Yellow Door around 2006. At the time, I was simply captivated by its melody, while the lyrics depicting the scenes of “herds of dinosaurs,” “elephant performances,” and “a garden inside the wardrobe” were redolent of childlike wonder and sparked endless images and fantasies in my mind.
The turning point came in 2012, when lyricist Wyman Wong held an exhibition of his works. In the introduction before The Yellow Door was performed, he said something that has imprinted vividly in my memory till now. He explained that writing lyrics is essentially about “exposure” — you can decide how much to reveal and how much to conceal. Sometimes, you want to express a certain emotion but do not feel like being seen through at first glance. So you use specific, nuanced words in place of the literal ones, forming a kind of insider code that only those in the know can decipher. I was deeply moved by this idea of “using words as a code” and began to wonder: how fascinating would it be to apply this obscure yet intimately tender form of communication to painting?
Later, when I heard Red Roof, I was delighted to discover that the lyrics of the two songs seemed to resonate with each other. Both feature symbolic codes such as “angels descending to earth,” “fawns,” and “rockets,” as though two parallel worlds were conversing across a distance and guarding each other. This sense of mutual correspondence and protection ultimately prompted me to put brush to canvas, hoping to visualise, through gongbi, the intimacy, romance and sense of sanctuary evoked by the songs
3812: In some of your recent works, you juxtapose some vintage objects associated with an earlier era with contemporary objects. For example, in 22:22, there is a mosquito coil on the floor, an old and worn magazine beside the door, and electronic devices on the stool, creating a collision and contrast between the old and the new. Is the arrangement of these objects deliberate? What are you hoping to express through it?
Lai: Yes, it is intentional. It actually reflects my own reality of living simultaneously in the past and the present. For me, objects that I have used and spaces that I have inhabited all foster deep emotional affinity with us, carrying memories that are unique to our own. These memories do not disappear; they continue to accompany us as we move towards the future.
When creating this scene , I felt as though I was laying out and displaying fragments of memories that I had cradled and gathered at different points in my life. I was curious about what kind of chemistry would emerge when I placed objects I had encountered during different periods of my life — in other words, the “different versions of myself at different points of time” — within the same space, and intertwined them with the scenes described in the lyrics. It is therefore not simply an arrangement of old and new objects, but a dialogue between personal time and memory.
3812: In some of the new works presented in this exhibition, unlike your earlier compositions boasting clearly defined protagonists, we can see more highly decorative geometric elements, such as the floor tiles in 22:22, the fabric patterns and windows in the distance in The Temporary Guest I. Does this indicate that you are seeking a new artistic language or a breakthrough?
Lai: Yes. This has indeed been an ongoing exploration and breakthrough in my artistic language.
Looking back at my creative journey, I began experimenting with decorative elements in my compositions around 2018, starting with Camouflage. By 2022, in works such as Twinkle and Secret Garden, I even experimented with using decorative elements to “fill” the entire picture plane. In the works 22:22 and Visitor I presented in this exhibition, these elements have evolved into more everyday patterns and textures, such as bed linen, floor tiles and windows.
There are two considerations behind this transformation. On the one hand, gongbi painting naturally lends itself to decorative elements, which respond beautifully to the meticulousness and refined decorative aesthetics inherent in the technique itself. On the other hand, I wanted to construct a space with a greater sense of “enclosure” and “spatial depth”. These ornamental elements are no longer merely backgrounds or embellishments; they have become a visual language for enhancing the emotional atmosphere and extending the perception of time. I hope that when viewers gaze into the paintings, they can viscerally feel the “accessible” depth and sense of security in the portrayed space.
3812: Your earlier works already featured the rather playful theme of sparrows, such as your “Sparrow” series from 2020. Six years later, as you return to this theme, has your state of mind changed? Is there any difference in what you hope to express through the series compared with the past?
Lai: My state of mind has changed considerably, and the role of the “sparrow” in my work has also undergone several important transformations.
Looking back, sparrows had already become a recurring them around 2010. At that time, they corresponded to my own childhood and upbringing. I often watched sparrows pecking at leftover food for dogs outside my old home. Around the same time, my university professor happened to use sparrows as a subject in our gongbi painting class. This coincidence led me to begin depicting sparrows through gongbi painting. At that stage, they were primarily “little birds” from my objective perspective.
Between 2016 and 2018, I began to regard sparrows as easily overlooked presences in everyday life, attempting to magnify their weight and role through my compositions. In 2020, I had an eureka moment of combing the bird “sparrow” with the mahjong tile “sparrow” — the two are homophonous in Cantonese yet completely unrelated. I was so intrigued about what kind of interaction might emerge between them. At that point, the sparrow began to become an “actor” in my paintings, playing out humorous narratives on my behalf.
Now, in 2026, the sparrow seems to possess more “personality” in my work. It is no longer merely an actor, but has evolved into a “middleman,” or even my “alter ego” — entering the picture on behalf of me to tell stories about everyday life, memory and subtle emotions.
3812: Your works have predominantly been presented in ink on paper, but this exhibition features works across different media, including acrylic and collage. How does your choice of medium influence your artistic expression?
Lai: This solo exhibition mainly features ink on paper, as well as different media including acrylic on wood and collage. To me, different media are like different tools, each with its own physical properties. Experimenting with and expanding my choice of media allows the traditional language of gongbi to open up new possibilities and dialogues within a contemporary context.
Traditional paper and silk are best suited to preserving the warm, fluid quality and porosity created by the interaction between ink and colour in gongbi painting. In my works on wood, I have employed and transformed the lengthy process of “layering and rendering” traditionally used in gongbi painting into a process of gradually building up layers of acrylic spray on the wooden surface. I see this technical exploration as a new presentation and translation of traditional gongbi vocabulary within a contemporary context. Although the medium has changed, the spirit of gongbi — its emphasis on the accumulation of time and meticulous layering — remains alive.
3812: You have described the process of painting in gongbi as a form of “healing.” When creating these works, have you genuinely been able to soothe specific worries or negative emotions? Do they manifest themselves in any particular way in your work?
Lai: Yes, the sense of “healing” is very real. Gongbi is an art form that simply cannot be rushed. It requires an extraordinary degree of concentration and patience. When outlining, the hand must be slow and steady; there is no room for impatience. When applying colour, multiple thin layers are required, and the desired effect cannot be achieved in one go. From the initial outlining to repeated layers of colour and glazing, this extremely lengthy process, which demands intense concentration, is itself a form of dynamic meditation.
Whenever I encounter anxiety, unease or emotional confusion in everyday life, I only need to sit at my painting desk and draw my attention into lines just a few millimetres wide and delicate washes of ink, and the noise of the outside world naturally subdues. Those negative emotions are not forcibly suppressed; instead, through the repetitive process, they are gradually “appeased” and “filtered away.” This transformation of emotion ultimately manifests in the exceptionally clean, harmonious and gentle tones and atmosphere of my paintings. There is rarely intense conflict or emotional eruption in my work, because all the agitation has been gently dissolved through the time and attention committed to painting.
3812: In this exhibition, you hope to create a “tranquil” space for viewers, allowing their minds to be healed. Will you continue in this direction in your future work?
Lai: I think I will continue in this direction, because it is the most honest and natural state for my artistic practice.
In an age of information overload, accelerated rhythms and pervasive uncertainty, I believe one of the most precious values of painting is its ability to provide both ourselves and viewers with a “tranquil space” where we can stop, slow down and breathe. Of course, “tranquillity” does not mean stagnation. In the future, I will continue to explore different media, richer narratives and more boundary-pushing visual languages. But at its core, I still want to preserve that sense of quietness and gentleness.
3812: You began working with 3812 Gallery in 2024, from multiple group exhibitions under the “YA! Young Art” programme, to participating as one of 3812 Gallery’s represented artists at Art Central this March, and now to your first solo exhibition since graduation. How has each collaboration influenced your artistic journey? What inspiration have you drawn from these experiences?
Lai: From my initial invitation to participate in the “YA! Young Art” group exhibition “Seeking Connections”, to having the privilege of participating as one of the gallery’s represented artists at Art Central this March, which brought my work to a much broader public audience, and now to my first solo exhibition since graduation, I am deeply grateful to 3812 Gallery for its professional support, creative freedom and tremendous trust in me.
Each collaboration has encouraged me to step outside the comfort zone of my personal studio and consider how my work can establish its own presence and dialogue within a professional contemporary gallery space. At the same time, this trust has given me greater ambition and the courage to challenge myself with larger-scale and more complex works.
In particular, the in-depth exchanges with the gallery team during the preparation of this solo exhibition helped me to articulate my creative trajectory and core values with greater clarity. This professional affirmation has given me the confidence to remain true to my artistic choices and individuality, while also encouraging me to continue exploring the possibilities of gongbi painting — a traditional language — within contemporary art.
